Potions Lessons
by thequeergiraffe
Summary: Snape engages in some extracurricular activity with one of his students. Rated M for smut.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: obviously I am not J.K. Rowling, and though I'm using her characters and settings without express permission, I'd like to think she appreciates her little army of fic writers, even when we make all of her great characters screw CONSTANTLY. Ahem. I am not writing for profit. Please don't sue me.**

**This story (just a drabble really, and very nearly PWP) is set in Fred and George Weasley's first year (though they will not be making an appearance, that's just a point of reference). Contains some pretty serious smut of the hetero variety. Everything here should comply with canon; if it doesn't, please let me know. And now, allow me to present…**

**Potions Lessons**

Winnie Gibson fumbled with her schoolbag. Her hands were shaking. The other students filed from the class slowly, chattering and playing as they funneled out of the small Potions classroom and up the stairs, away from the dungeons Professor Snape called home. When the cool, damp room fell silent, she dared a glance at her teacher and let out a small, shaking breath. He hadn't noticed she was still in the room; he was bent over a parchment, his thin lips moving almost imperceptibly as he read, those sharp dark eyes focused intently. Did she dare interrupt him?

Almost as though he had sensed her deliberation, Snape looked up. "Miss Gibson," he drawled coolly. "Is there a reason you have not vacated my classroom? The bell has rung. You are expected to be in the Great Hall in fifteen minutes for supper."

Winnie brushed her white-blonde hair from her eyes. "I-I had hoped to speak with you, Professor. About m-my grades."

"Miss Gibson, you are a Ravenclaw, and an excellent student." Snape's eyes were narrowed. "What indication have I given you that your grades may be at risk?"

"Well, none, sir." This was not going as Winnie had planned. "I…I had just h-hoped-"

It shocked Winnie to hear Snape's voice, as cold and cutting as ice. "You are not here to speak about your grades, Miss Gibson, though I respect your admittedly feeble attempt to get what you want without letting me in on the secret." He smiled, his dark eyes glinting. "I have always said you would have fit in well in Slytherin. However, your lie, as I have said, is feeble at best. Tell me why you have stayed behind, or I will give you detention for a week."

Something in Winnie's eyes betrayed her, and Snape cocked an eyebrow. "You _want_ detentions? Well, out with it. Is someone bullying you after classes? I can understand why you came to me, of course, though that is really a duty for your head of house."

"No." Her voice was steadier than she felt. "No, no one is bullying me, Professor."

"Then?"

How could she possibly tell him? It had been so stupid of her to stay behind! What had she expected to happen? Now she was trapped, utterly and completely trapped. It was no use lying; he seemed to be able to see right through her. But how, oh how, could she ever tell the truth? "Professor Snape, I…" She stood suddenly, her heart racing. Snape's cool eyes were watching her carefully, and the urge to flee swelled in her until she could no longer keep it at bay. But barely had she moved a step before Snape was around the desk, one white hand snaked around her arm. She turned around to face him, her face hot.

"I did not permit you to leave, Miss Gibson. Now explain yourself, at once."

Winnie did, in that moment, the only thing that felt right: she propelled herself forward, pressing hard against Snape's body, and kissed him. He didn't resist, nor did he release her now-aching wrist. Her tongue slid against his and she gave a little sigh of pleasure- before he stepped away, releasing her arm at once, his eyes wide. There were two bright spots of color showing on his high, pale cheeks. His bottom lip glistened from her lip gloss.

"I…I'm sorry!" She burst out, hiding her face in her hands. She felt his hand touch her shoulder, and she looked up at him, miserable.

"I admit I'm taken aback." Snape's voice was a little higher than normal. His face was so close, and all she could think about was how his lips had felt on hers….

She didn't know who started it but suddenly, wildly, they were kissing once more. His hands were rough and quick, grasping at her hips, stroking her stomach. She felt him lift her easily, as if she weighed no more than a feather, and set her down harshly on his wide teacher's desk, scattering parchments and quills. An upturned ink bottle dripped steadily on the stone floor as Snape's mouth moved from her lips to her neck, then lower still, kissing and licking the place between her breasts as one hand slipped under her blouse and snaked up her stomach. His other hand stroked her thigh, his thumb sometimes brushing lightly against the wet warmth between her legs, and each time she let out a little gasp of agony. His mouth returned to hers, devouring, as his fingers found her pert pink nipple and pinched gently. His other hand had begun to stroke her, slowly at first but gaining in speed, and she bucked up against him greedily, biting his lip. A hard shuddering rocked her- her back arched against her will- a great gasp escaped her and she screwed up her face as the feeling overtook her- and then it was over, Snape was pulling away from her, straightening his robes, running a hand through his long black hair.

She sat up, panting. Little tremulous aftershocks were running through her body, making her twitch. "Professor?" she breathed.

"I apologize," he said hastily, not quite meeting her eyes. "I shouldn't have done that. I would appreciate it if you would keep this between-"

"Oh! I'm not going to tell anyone, sir," she rushed. She brushed the hair from her eyes again and sat all the way up, straightening her long uniform socks and smoothing her skirt. "No, no, of course not."

"Of course. You should leave...now."

"I…" She looked at him askance. What was with this guy? One minute he was all over her, the next acting as though he weren't interested…she shook her head. "Of course." She scooped up her schoolbag and noted with pleasure the way his eyes moved up her legs and to the hem of her skirt as she bent down. He would change his mind, eventually. For now, things had gone better than she could have ever imagined.


	2. Chapter 2

Snape sank into his chair and laid his head on the cool desk, listening to the slow pitter-patter of his best ink dribbling on the ground, as useless and wasted as he felt. What has just happened? He had fondled a student! Dumbledore would find out- Dumbledore always found out, he was practically omniscient- and then Snape would be sacked, just like that. Why had he been such a fool? What could have possibly made him behave so stupidly?

He pictured the girl's eyes once more, looking up at him with ferocity and need. Those beautiful, emerald green, almond-shaped eyes…

They reminded him so much of Lily.

Stupid! Snape swept from his desk and dashed some bottles to the ground in a rage. There was nothing of Lily in _that girl_ at all, nothing. Nothing except those perfect, searching eyes. And in those eyes he had seen something that he had never seen in Lily's, though he had dreamed about it a thousand times: desire. Was it as simple and foolish as that? It was true that he had lacked a woman's touch for years. Love and lust had died for him before it had even truly begun, and though Snape had let himself- his heart empty, his bland thrusting satisfying nothing but his most base of natures- into many a whore's inn-room, never had he felt so close to taming the great beast inside of him as he had tonight. He had thought only Lily would have been able to rouse such feelings in him, but the heat of his face and the aching of unsatisfied lust in his groin said otherwise. _The girl will do_, said the haphazard thumping of his restless heart. He couldn't love her, no, but he could consume her, use her up, make her as completely his as Lily had never been nor ever would be.

It was a dreadful idea. There were many more important things to consider. But Snape found over the next few weeks that the thought of Winnie's perfect eyes looking into his as he ravished her again and again was like a bit of gristle stuck between his teeth. He kept coming back to it, toying with it, in every idle moment. The fact that Dumbledore had yet to confront him was heartening, as was the way the girl squirmed and flushed each time he dared look at her in Potions- no doubt she was recalling that evening on his desk, his long fingers searching her body…He could tell she hadn't given up the hope that he would finish what they had begun that day.

And then, on one of those bright afternoons that most students spent outdoors, lying on the lawns pretending to study, he made up his mind.


	3. Chapter 3

Snape had come across Winnie a bit unexpectedly that day, the dazzling sunlight streaming through the castle windows and highlighting dancing motes of dust so that it seemed the air was full of golden glitter. He had been swishing down a corridor in his usual way, his cloak streaming behind him, looking for all the world like a giant bat, when she had stepped out from around a corner with three other seventh-year girls and placed herself, coincidentally, in his path. Her hands had been moving in time with her speech, great broad armstrokes flailing through the air, and one hand happened to slip under Snape's arm and knock to the floor a bottle he'd been carrying.

The girls' laughing banter fell to an abrupt halt. Snape eyed the girls- one had such lovely copper curls; if only Winnie were a redhead- with menace. "Detention, Miss Gibson. In my office tonight, 9pm. And a point from Ravenclaw, each of you, for your carelessness."

"But I'm from Gryffindor!" spouted one of the girls.

Snape sneered. "Then five from Gryffindor as well. Move along." He casually swept away, leaving the fragments of the bottle- a drink he had finished moments earlier- on the floor, and the girls huddled together, their eyes as round as their impertinent mouths.

It had happened on a whim, but by nine o'clock Snape was glad for it. He had been in a particularly nasty mood lately, and all of Winnie's little innuendos hadn't helped. She had taken, in the past few days, to all sorts of extravagant bending and stretching in class, or sitting with her legs spread and her skirt hiked so that Snape alone, from the front of the class, could see. He was pleasantly prepared to punish her soundly, and it gave him a slight thrill to think that she didn't know what to expect.

The sound of her voice as she stepped into his office reaffirmed this sentiment and filled him with wicked glee. "Professor?" she called from the door, and her voice was a bit shaken.

"Come in and sit, Miss Gibson."

She followed his orders terrifically. Those perfect, wide eyes watched him cautiously as he moved from behind the desk and he stood before her, leaning back, his thin lips stretched into a taut smile.

"You're being punished tonight, Miss Gibson, because you have been a thorn in my side for some weeks now, and I don't feel you are showing me the proper respect." The look on the girl's face was perfect; she was crestfallen, her eyes brimming with tears. Why had Lily never looked at him like that, as if his very words could make or break her heart? "Stand up," he ordered, and his voice was thick with more emotion than he had felt in years.

Winnie stood, her body trembling. She didn't seem to know where to look, casting her gaze from Snape's cluttered desk, to his bookshelf, to the vials and bottles that stood collecting dust around the room. Snape let the moment drag on, savoring her suffering. At last, when he felt she was properly frightened, he growled, "Remove your robe."

She looked at him with apparent surprise- and, he was pleased to note, instant arousal. He didn't have to ask her again; she disrobed hurriedly and stood quite still in a thin cotton shift, the white skin of her legs prickled with goosebumps. Snape couldn't help himself, though he would have liked to have kept her waiting. He moved forward, placing a firm hand on her hip, and looked into her eyes.

It was Lily looking back at him, Lily shaking at his touch, Lily's perfect eyes almost taunting him, almost begging him. He pulled her to him with violent longing and pressed his mouth to hers as if he could make this moment real, as if only the force of his desire could bring Lily back to him. His hands ran along her body greedily, pulling up the cotton shift and tossing it carelessly aside. The girl's chest responded to his touch, heaving forward, her back arched. She was draped across his arm, her long white neck begging for his teeth, and he acquiesced to its demand as his hand sought the warmth between her legs and his long fingers plunged inside of her without warning. She let out a low moan but didn't stop him as roughly fondled her. Snape felt her coming close to the edge of her passion and freed his hand from her pressing thighs, making her cry out: "Oh no, please!" He ignored her plea and scooped her up into his arms, flinging her down to the cold stone floor. He was atop her, grinding in to her, his hungry mouth nipping at her, his rough hands scratching at her hips and wrists. She tugged at his robes, yanking them off almost savagely, and within moments he was inside of her, hard and angry, thrusting viciously, his face drenched with sweat.

"Don't close your eyes!" he hissed at her, and she obeyed though he could tell it was hard for her. She was moaning so loudly he wondered, fleetingly, if the whole castle could hear. Snape lifted the girl's legs up from his hips and rested them on his shoulders, pulling himself up on to his knees and taking her hard and swift, driving into her with all the force he could muster. Those eyes, those lovely emeralds, stayed locked to his own dark and vengeful gaze. He thought about how it would feel if they _were_ Lily's eyes looking up at him, so full of pain and pleasure and fear and need, and with one final, longing thrust he felt a great sense of release and only one word echoed in his mind: _Lily!_

Snape collapsed atop the girl, gasping and trembling. He was soft, and he felt his seed spill from her as he rolled away from Winnie on to his back, the cool ground welcoming. He caught his breath. Almost all of the warmth of orgasm had left him, and he felt suddenly hollow. Beside him Winnie stirred, and all he could think was how much he wished she would leave so he could be alone with his thoughts and the cold stone floor. But he could feel her watching him. He cracked an eye to find her sitting up, staring. He had expected her to look sad, abused, tormented…but instead she looked curious, and strangely pleased.

"Never-" she began, her voice breathy and her bright eyes oddly eager, but Snape interrupted her.

"I don't know how you feel, and I'm not sure I wish to." He sat up, smoothing his hair back. "We musn't do this again."

"Right, because you're a professor and all, I know. The thing is, sir," Winnie added hastily, catching the dark glint in his eyes, "I don't care! Honestly! I want this and-"

"I cannot give you what you want, Winnie," Snape sighed, and his voice was oddly sad. He was surprised with himself, surprised at how much he regretted what he would have to say next- not because of _this _girl, but because this fact would always remain, no matter to whom he was speaking: "I cannot love you."

There was quiet in the room for a moment. Snape didn't look at the girl, didn't care to. The hollow feeling in his chest was spreading to his lungs and limbs and he felt he would soon suffocate if she didn't leave.

To Snape's great relief, Winnie stood and yanked on her cotton shift, her Ravenclaw robe. "You must think I'm an idiot," she said in a low whisper, almost as if she were saying it to herself and not Snape. Snape said nothing, keeping his eyes on the floor. He didn't want to see the body he had pillaged, or the eyes that had called to him and promised him false hope. She seemed to grow braver in his silence, and went on. "Is that what you thought this was? Some foolish schoolgirl crush?" She made a disbelieving sort of noise as she tugged on her socks. "I _wanted_ you, Professor. And I got exactly what I wanted."

Taking him by surprise, Winnie grasped Snape's chin and tilted his face up so his eyes met hers. "I don't want your love, and anyway- whatever this was? I'm not stupid enough to tell myself it was anything close to lovemaking. If anything, it felt more like hate." She released him and placed her feet carefully into her shoes. "But you know what? I liked it anyway. It felt amazing. I don't know who you were thinking of, and I don't care. I've never been fucked that well, Professor, and if you want me again I won't say no." And with that she swept from the room, pulling the door closed with a clang behind her.

Snape laid back on the cool floor again and laid his arm over his eyes, letting the hollow feeling in his chest consume him.


End file.
